My Home Is Rocks Poem by Naveed Akram

The rock’s crafty protuberances spoiled the wars
When breathing surrounded the circumstances,
A march to a son was towards the home of choice;
But sons were sons, daughters were daughters,
The life of the right judge was a right conduct.
Their conducing properties were like metallic rough,
Edges of the plain spread, lucifers seemed to act
On the sons that floated every time, seemingly
Tense and tentative, illiterate people denied the truth.

A rock was cut from the cake of misdemeanour,
Slices handed out to sheets of musical men,
Who threw their locks on the doors of rightness,
So that a rock would curtail the blessing,
Sons of heraldry invoked their plain habits
For the extra kindness, for the ilk of a familiar.
Let the simulacrum deny a man of justice,
For the justice can out stride the wonders.
This just man in the head marches towards the home.